The Bone Shard Daughter (The Drowning Empire, #1)(14)
“Unfairly,” she said, a finger raised. And then she shook her head. “We’ll finish this tomorrow morning.”
“Fair enough.”
She didn’t bother to change out of her armor; she preferred it to street clothes or – heaven forbid – to the embroidered silken tunics her father was always trying to get her to wear. And Ranami liked her in armor. She’d confessed to Phalue after one breathless night that Phalue seemed the most comfortable in it, her truest self. And Phalue loved that.
Her heart skipped at the memory, before sinking as she remembered their fight. Always, always at the end of these fights, Ranami would say that Phalue just didn’t understand, and Phalue would say, “Well, then make me understand!” and then Ranami would look at her as though she’d asked a dog to sail a boat. It was like they stood on two different islands when they argued, and neither of them could find a way across.
The forest outside the palace walls was damp and green, just at the beginning of the wet season. The tree branches Phalue brushed out of the way were wet, the street still slick. In the distance an iyop bird repeatedly sang iyop-wheeeee – one last desperate attempt to attract a mate before the heat of the dry season faded and raising young became difficult.
The palace stood at the top of a hill, insulated from the city below. Phalue’s knees jolted as she strode the winding switchbacks, trying to keep her footing. Despite the unrest among the farmers, and despite the unpopularity of her father, the people of Nephilanu Island seemed to like her. They liked her discipline, her lowborn mother, the fact that she often walked down to the city to visit her. Her visits, accompanied by a retinue of guards, had been the inspiration for Phalue to learn how to fight. If she could fight, she’d argued with her father, then surely she could visit her mother on her own.
When she’d beaten two of his best men in a brawl, he’d relented. At first, she’d walked down to the city just to visit her mother. Then it had been to see the markets. And then she’d caught the eye of a visiting governor and had fallen in love for the first time. She’d been a late bloomer at nineteen, but she’d more than made up for lost time.
Halfway down, she had to walk into the mud at the side of the road to let a cart pass. It creaked beneath its burden, the oxen at its front straining to pull the load. More supplies for the palace. She wondered sometimes what it had looked like when the Alanga had built it. After all the renovations her family had made to it, it probably resembled the original as much as a lapdog resembled a wolf. The caro nut farms had made her father rich, and he’d ordered the construction of a new hall just outside the palace walls – one he was convinced the Emperor himself would some day visit.
Phalue scanned the city as she waited for the cart to pass, trying to pick out Ranami’s home among the sloping, tiled roofs pressed too close together. What would she say to her? “Sorry” was the most obvious opener, but oftentimes seemed inadequate. “I understand” would be what she’d most want to hear probably, but it wouldn’t be true. “I love you”? So true that it swelled her chest every time she looked at her.
On the odd morning, she missed her days of philandering. A new woman every few weeks, a new passionate tryst. But the day she’d met Ranami at the docks had knocked the wind from her. If Phalue took a long view of things, Ranami didn’t seem overly special. She’d been crouched at the edge of the dock, long lashes shadowing her face, slender fingers pulling a crab trap up from the depths. Who fell in love with the way someone drew up a crab trap?
Phalue had noted Ranami’s beauty first, and then her gracefulness, and then the way her lips parted a little as she concentrated, her brows forming the smallest of lines at her forehead.
Her approach had . . . left much to be desired. She’d offered to buy a crab, and they clearly weren’t for sale, and Ranami had frowned, confused, and had said they were for her personal use. Ranami knew who she was, and what use would the governor’s daughter have for a random crab from the docks? And then she’d guessed Phalue’s intentions soon enough, and had turned her down.
“I’m not interested in being toyed with.”
“Is it that you’re not interested in women?”
Ranami had given her a long look, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “It’s not that you’re a woman. It’s you.” Not the most auspicious of beginnings. She’d left Ranami alone, as she’d asked, but her words had given Phalue cause to reflect. She had broken things off with her latest paramour, and endured three full months of celibacy. Had she been so reckless with others’ feelings? And then, to her surprise, Ranami had sought her out at the palace. “Perhaps I’m making a fool of myself,” she’d said, eyes downcast, demure, “but if you’ve still some interest . . .” She’d handed her a basket with a crab inside.
Phalue tapped her fingers against her scabbard, Ranami’s words echoing in her head. It’s you. Was it something about her again this time? She tried to shake off the uneasy feeling that it was. It lay slick over her heart like oil over water. If it was, she’d make Ranami say the words, make her break it off – because Phalue just couldn’t.
She picked her way through the narrow streets near the dock, the gutters clean from the rain but still smelling faintly of fish. A few gutter orphans caught sight of her and followed her down the street. “Please, Sai. Please.” She reached into her purse and tossed them some coins. Her father gave her an allowance every tenday, and what else was she to spend it on? She always made a point of helping the orphans or the shardsick when she strolled into the city.